Bright Night
by GoldFountain
Summary: Shauntal liked oxymorons, but that didn't mean she ever used them in her writings. She never would have thought that it was precisely that - and a certain someone else - that would rid her of her writer's block.


Bright Night

* * *

Ever since she was little, Shauntal loved the way a pen felt in her hands. To her, the smooth feeling of writing with ink felt much better than the craggy application of a pencil on paper. This preference of hers was also why she never used parchment - that scabrous texture was the only thing that prevented her from ever using those heavenly scratchy-yet-silky things known as quills otherwise.

Actually, if Shauntal decided to make a ranking of her favorite writing implements, quills would definitely have been at the top, while scandalous chalk would have been at the bottom. Despite her more frequent usage of pens and brushes in her writing, Shauntal favored things she could describe as oxymoronic more than anything else, and that included quills. The feelings of writing from the quill are of a sandpapery sensation, but the strokes themselves look to be as smooth as a brush's, something Shauntal couldn't get over, even after taking a class on how to use them along with fountain pens. Quills amused and intrigued Shauntal, and so did anything else that could be described with oxymorons. Perhaps this was also why she favored ghost-types, for their paradoxical nature of living after death.

Despite Shauntal's liking for oxymorons, however, she found them to be on the same level as clichés, and were almost impossible to use properly outside of a humorous situation or when trying to be satirical, which she rarely ever was.

And so, because of that, Shauntal never incorporated oxymorons into her writings.

That is, of course, before she met him.

* * *

Enter Grimsley, dark-type trainer extraordinaire.

Before his impromptu appearance, all Shauntal knew about this last member of the league was that he was a dark-type trainer. Just from that information, she knew that he was probably going to be a formidable foe - training partner. Shauntal noted she shouldn't have been complaining, though. Caitlin had it worse, as now she was at a type-disadvantage against half of the members of the Elite Four.

Shauntal was in her personal chamber working on a new novel when there came a sudden knock on her door. Shauntal, thankfully not coming up with any ideas to continue her story, admitted the visitor in - having thought it was going to be Alder, most likely - with a beckoning call.

Once Shauntal put her pen down and turned around to look at her visitor, however, she immediately got up and regretted her prolonged inaction. She took a swift sweeping glance at the new arrival.

His hair was the first striking feature about him. Jagged and pointy on the sides, the man's black hair gave him the appearance of a man with bat ears. Coupled with his fair and flawlessly pale complexion, the man would have certainly fit the role as Dracula. His yellow scarf was coiled around him as a cat's tail would have wound around a pole, and his stylishly polished black suitcoat had a coattail of a strangely ragged yet fluffy appearance, much like a zorua's tail. All of these features combined to make a very interesting specimen, and as much as Shauntal hated using this word, there was no other way to describe him other than as "handsome."

Shauntal found her voice eventually, after she had finished appraising the man based on his looks. Judging by how the man's eyes were looking down at her feet, she could tell he was doing the same to her.

"Ah, hello, you must be..."

"Grimsley," he responded instantly.

Shauntal was a little taken aback by his voice - it was deeper than she expected from a tall, lean man like him.

"And you must be Shauntal, the Elite Four member who specializes in Ghost-types, correct?" Grimsley continued without skipping a beat.

"Yes," said Shauntal.

"Please excuse my sudden entrance."

The man suddenly bowed, much to Shauntal's surprise. Shauntal hastily did a disfigured curtsy in response, startled by this formality.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Shauntal."

"And the same to you," Shauntal said.

Shauntal felt a bit of difficulty reconciling her conflicted feelings towards this man. For all of the connotations he had for having 'grim' in his name along with being a trainer of dark-types, his pleasant and gentlemanly manner was not one Shauntal was expecting. Shauntal knew she wasn't one to talk, however, with her own name and position and all. Still, she had enough justification for her caution. Being a writer, Shauntal understood better than most the power of names.

Her image of him as the polite and gentlemanly dark-type master shattered, however, when Grimsley began to prowl around her room. Lithe and nimble as a liepard, the man had walked over to Shauntal's desk in a few strides and was now examining the latest of her brain creations.

"So you're a writer as well," Grimsley said, almost to himself.

Grimsley was about to pick up the most recently inked sheet before a gloved hand pulled on his wrist.

"Yes, I am," said Shauntal, tugging Grimsley away, now that she had found her resolve. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't hover around my desk. Those works are private."

"Ah, my bad. Please excuse my mistake."

"There's no need to apologize. But please don't do it again," said Shauntal.

"But of course."

Grimsley slinked his wrist out of her grip and guided himself to the doorway. Shauntal went back to her desk to rearrange her papers. Right before leaving, he paused and turned around. Sensing that someone was looking at her, Shauntal turned around as well.

Shauntal stopped. Grimsley had caught her eyes. He had suddenly smiled, showing two glittering white rows of teeth.

But it wasn't the brightness of the teeth nor the sight of a smile that caught her off guard. No, it was the expression. Shauntal could see the leering in his eyes and the smugness that characterized his lips. It made Shauntal feel very nervous.

This man was definitely going to be a formidable foe.

* * *

The next time they met was in the Pokémon League's library. Shauntal wasn't quite happy to see Grimsley again, despite not being able to keep him out of her mind. After the sore loss Shauntal had against Grimsley in a near shutout during a practice match the other day, with only his Spiritomb being barely bested by her Sableye, it wasn't a surprise to see her in poor spirits. But what kept Shauntal really down wasn't her loss to the formidable foe named Grimsley, but rather against another enemy, the enemy against her not as a Pokémon Trainer, but as a writer and to all writers everywhere.

She was up against writer's block.

Shauntal didn't know what caused her writer's block, for she was able to produce fine novels at a rapid pace for the duration of the past year, even having gone so far to have written what she considered to be her magnum opus. But perhaps this was precisely why she couldn't think of any usable ideas; Shauntal had used up all of her inspiration in creating that literary marvel known as White Knight.

Or maybe it was Grimsley. Perhaps simply the thought of him lingering in the back of her mind had clogged her creative fountain.

Shauntal was in the library doing some research in the library in an attempt to rid herself of her problem, but judging by the blank notebook in her arms, her efforts were not proving fruitful. Shauntal was just about ready to stomp back to her room when a voice called from behind her:

"Oh, hello, Miss Shauntal."

It took all of her energy not to groan. Shauntal had enough trouble stifling Grimsley's presence within her mind, but such a task was now impossible when she turned around to find herself face-to-face with the real thing.

"Hello, Grimsley," Shauntal greeted glumly.

Grimsley, in contrast to Shauntal's poor spirits, looked as though to be in especially high spirits today, judging by his beaming smile. As if he needed to add insult to injury just by being in front of Shauntal.

"Are you working on another novel of yours?" asked Grimsley.

He pointed at the mass of books, notepads, and writing utensils in her arms. Shauntal glanced downwards and straightened out her belongings, nodding silently in response.

"You have made some good progress, I hope?"

Without thinking, Shauntal was about to nod before she noticed Grimsley had his eyes closely watching her. But all it took was this one moment of hesitation for Grimsley to confirm his beliefs. But whatever his beliefs were, Grimsley didn't voice them.

"Been doing some research?" Grimsley asked, continuing with his volley of questions.

Shauntal was wise enough to know where this was going. She was not going to let herself be caught in a trap again. Trying to sound indifferent but coming across as defensive instead, Shauntal said:

"Yes, I have been doing some research. Quite a bit, I may add!"

"Is that so?" Grimsley said, sounding far from amused.

"And what about you? Why are you here in the library?"

If Shauntal wanted to put Grimsley on the spot, she made a naïve job out of it.

"I was here returning some books," replied Grimsley. He paused, and then added, "And searching for a partner to play chess with."

"Eh? Chess?" Shauntal had anticipated that first part - the second part, not so much.

"Yes. I've been trying to find someone all morning, but to no avail."

Grimsley whipped out a chess case from behind his back. Shauntal blinked at the apparition of the object in his hands. Either he was a magician, or he had taped that onto his back somehow. Or both - if so, then he was a lousy magician.

"I've already asked the librarian if she'd like to have a match with me, but she refused," Grimsley said. "Alder and Marshal are out, and asking Caitlin is out of the question. What am I to do?"

He let out a clearly overstressed sigh. Shauntal knew what he meant; she would have answered his plea if he didn't treat her as such a child. Shauntal closed her eyes, mulling over what to do.

Shauntal knew that she had no choice but to give in. If she didn't, she knew that Grimsley would resort to the secondary form of attack: puppy-dog eyes. And Shauntal knew she would never be able to resist him then. She preferred not making a fool of herself, so it was better to suffer an early defeat than a crushing one.

Finally, after letting out a sigh of her own, Shauntal pushed her doubts aside and suggested, "I've played a bit of chess. How about I play a match with you?"

When Shauntal had reopened her eyes to look at Grimsley's reaction, she was unnerved to find it was not one of relief or joy. But of course, with Grimsley, it never was.

He was smiling smugly.

Something she should have expected.

* * *

They settled the match in inner wall of the library, having decided to sit at a spindly table located by a floor-to-ceiling french window. The view from the window was nice to look at as one of them waited for the other person to make a move.

Before starting the game, however, Grimsley made a proposal.

"How about we liven things up a bit with a bet?" Grimsley said as he arranged the pieces onto the board.

"No, thank you," Shauntal immediately replied. "I don't gamble."

Grimsley sighed.

"Ah, 'tis a shame."

Shauntal ignored him.

"I'll take white," said Shauntal, once Grimsley had finished arranging the pieces.

Grimsley raised an eyebrow. Then, with a chuckle, he said, "Very well."

There was a strange edge to his voice; Shauntal couldn't tell what his tone suggested. Nevertheless, she set her books down, and relishing the thought of beating Grimsley at this intellectual and psychological endeavor, Shauntal set her eyes down onto the chess board.

"Then I'll begin," Shauntal said.

Grimsley had closed his eyes and crossed his arms, wearing that smug smirk of his again in an irksome manner, much to Shauntal's chagrin. Opening one of his eyes slightly like a meowth peering from sleep, he said to her:

"Go for it."

* * *

Shauntal felt a bead of sweat drop down her forehead as she examined the near barren board in front of her. Perhaps she should have anticipated it, seeing how sorely she lost to him in that Pokémon battle, but Grimsley was merciless. Shauntal quickly found herself outmatched when her side of the board began clearing out in minutes. Soon enough, she had only two pieces remaining on the board - her king, and one white knight.

If there was one thing Shauntal learned about Grimsley during that match, it was how he never gave his opponent a quick and painless death.

"Check and mate," said Grimsley, after he had gotten bored toying Shauntal's knight in a game of chase with a knight of his own.

Shauntal pouted her lips as Grimsley knocked her king off of the board, but otherwise said not a word. Grimsley's hand reached across the table to claim the final two conquered pieces, but contrary to Shauntal's assumption, he picked up the king first and examined the knight last.

"The brave and valiant knight, in a daring attempt to save the king, gets bested by the enemy's knight, who in turn is protecting his own king. Fitting, of course," Grimsley mused, lifting the chess piece up to his eyes. "After all, not all knights have to be white."

The blow came to Shauntal before she realized it even hit her. Before she had any time to wonder, however, Grimsley had gotten up from his seat and Shauntal had to scramble to catch the chess piece tossed to her - the white knight.

Grimsley flashed her a smug smile, waved an arm, and left the room.

Shauntal stared. She looked at the white chess piece in her hands. Her revelation came ringing and clear.

He had played her before the game even started.

* * *

Shauntal sat still for a few moments, shocked. Then, reconciling her thoughts, she threw down the chess piece and ran out of the room after him.

Despite the vast size of the Pokémon League's grounds, Shauntal faced little difficulty in locating her target. He was sitting in a nearby alcove, looking out a window not unlike the french window they sat by while in the library earlier. Grimsley didn't stir at the sound of Shauntal's footsteps; rather, he kept looking outside with his back faced towards her.

Panting slightly, Shauntal took a few seconds to catch her breath.

She said, "You knew I was a writer. Didn't you?"

Shauntal waited for the immediate statement of denial, the clever comeback to come flying out of his mouth. She found her thirst for answers exacerbated when Grimsley took his time to form a reply. When he did, however, he also turned around, and Shauntal was able to catch his expression again, but like before, it was one she was not expecting.

"I never knew before I met you," said Grimsley.

He grimaced. Shauntal never knew such a painful smile could even come into existence.

"Then why did you reference – "

"May I ask, Shauntal," Grimsley cut in. "What is your favorite Pokémon? I'm speaking solely about ghost-types, of course."

Shauntal was caught off guard by his interruption; she was bewildered. Her initial reaction was to flare up angrily at him for doing so, but quickly realized that would have been quite out of character for her.

"I - Chandelure, probably," answered Shauntal, after a few moments of consideration.

Grimsley had slowly regained the smugness in his grin. He was scratching his chin now, perhaps at an attempt to look ponderously dignified, which he somehow managed while sitting in a window alcove.

"Interesting. I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you this, correct?" Grimsley said.

Shauntal nodded.

"One can tell a lot about a person based on their preferences," Grimsley explained. "Their habits, their favorites, their Pokémon. Oftentimes, the little details about someone are as telling as the bigger ones, and vice versa."

Shauntal opened her mouth slightly, as though to respond, but stayed silent. She looked down at her feet.

"Of course, sometimes, preferences don't always reveal truthful details," Grimsley continued. "Chandelure, for instance. Just because you like it doesn't necessarily mean your habits are associated with it - though if you did steal or burn souls, that would be quite the amazing feat."

"...What is your favorite Pokémon, then?" Shauntal asked.

Grimsley smiled. "Funny that you'd ask. Mine is Absol, the Disaster Pokémon. I'm sure you've heard of it?"

"As a writer of Gothic novels, it'd be strange if I didn't."

"Very good. Then I needn't tell you about the details behind its background. It's not exactly a very favored Pokémon, even amongst those that know of its intentions. But of course, when you foretell incoming disaster, it's not often you're welcomed anywhere."

"Like a prophet," Shauntal chimed in.

Grimsley raised an eyebrow.

"A prophet? Yes, I suppose you can say Absol are like prophets, in a sense," Grimsley said.

"But, still, despite it being feared and shunned from society..." Grimsley's voice took on a forlorn tone.

Shauntal lifted her head, and was startled to find Grimsley looking at her, determinedly with piercingly blue eyes.

"That doesn't change the Absol's intentions, does it? It still does its best to warn those that treat it without kindness or consideration."

Grimsley stopped. He glanced at a watch on the inside of his wrist. He straightened the scarf around his neck and gave Shauntal an apologetic glance.

"Pardon me, but I have an appointment with someone."

Shauntal stepped back and shook her head. "No, it's fine."

Grimsley smiled slightly - with slightly less smugness this time - and turned on his heels, walking briskly back in the direction of the library. Shauntal watched him go, biting her lower lip with an agitated look in her eyes.

Then, on impulse, Shauntal shouted, "Wait! I have one question!"

Grimsley stopped mid-step and straightened his posture. Without turning around, he said:

"What is it?"

With determination, Shauntal asked strongly:

"Did you read my - that book?"

Now his interest was piqued. Grimsley turned around, and Shauntal found that with every time she saw his face she became more immune to the effect of his smug grin. Shauntal felt a bit of a stirring within herself - was she actually beginning to like looking at him?

"If I said yes, what will you tell me?" Grimsley said.

"I want to know why you read it."

Grimsley shrugged his shoulders.

"The same reason why you write novels about Pokémon and people."

"What do you mean?" Shauntal said, shaking her head slightly without understanding.

At this point, Grimsley couldn't help but laugh.

"Is it not obvious? I was curious about you."

* * *

Shauntal shivered. It was cold. She looked up at the dark sky, lit up by the illusory beacon known as the moon. Blocked by the clouds otherwise, the stars would have shone brilliantly bright that night. A notebook lay in her lap, a fountain pen in hand. Shauntal was sitting at a bench in a park, one of her favorite locations to brainstorm ideas whenever she was in a tough spot.

But whatever methods she employed to rid herself of writer's block, it was not working. Tonight was no different. Shauntal had been sitting there, on the bench, looking at the blank notebook in front of her without really seeing her lack of writing for the past hour or so. Her thoughts were on other matters.

Shauntal, knowing that she was only wasting her time here, decided to go home. She gathered up her belongings and got up from the bench. Oblivious to the numbness in her legs, she took her first stumbling step.

Then, like the clumsy black cat that she was, Shauntal tripped over her own feet and landed on all fours, onto her hands and knees. A loud crash signified the loss of the books in her arms, and the yelp of surprise her sight.

Uncharacteristically blind, Shauntal scrambled on the ground, spreading her arms around like a flailing magikarp as she searched for her glasses. Even though it was near midnight and she saw no one else in the park, Shauntal would have bet with her luck that someone would appear and manage to step on them. Shauntal felt around slowly yet quickly, snatching up any books she came across, but unfortunately, never coming across any glasses. Just when Shauntal thought that her glasses may have flown off her face and into a tree, she felt a tap on her shoulders and turned around, only to suddenly find a pair of glasses be inserted onto her face, much to her surprise.

Shauntal blinked, feeling a bit dazed at the sudden restoration of her sight. She stirred when a familiar voice spoke out to her:

"Need some help?"

Shauntal looked up. There, standing against the backdrop of a full moon and a sky full of stars, a tall man shrouded in darkness was extending his hand out to her.

Like a knight in shining armor.

Even against the moonlight, Shauntal could tell perfectly well with that scarf and that coattail who the silhouette belonged to.

At a loss for words, Shauntal soon realized that she shouldn't have been surprised that it was him who saved her in the dead of the night. A faint buzzing feeling sluggishly flew through Shauntal's brain: the sense of feeling alive. She had this feeling once before, and wanting to make sure her feelings were trapped there, within those words, she said to him what was in her mind all along.

"Thank you, Grimsley."

The man froze. His face turned, like the face of the moon, and for one brief moment, Shauntal could see a stroke of disbelief run across his lips that changed into a radiant, infectious smile, one that was without any traces of egotism or smugness. His next words instilled the same sort of reaction in Shauntal, and reaffirmed her initial thoughts of him as quite the gentleman.

"You're very welcome, Shauntal."

It was going to be a bright night.


End file.
